


tears of loves lost in the days gone by

by fauchevalent



Category: Sagas of Sundry: Madness (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, F/M, boop boop this is SAD BC IM SAD, uhhhhhhh spoilers hardcore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 18:00:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17391035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauchevalent/pseuds/fauchevalent
Summary: "It wasn't until she met Emmett that she even considered trying her art again-- finally, someone who gave a shit, someone who wanted to hear what she had to say. Someone who didn't eat the blueberries in his fruit bowl and who always shared them with her."-- aka a quick fic inspired by both xander and erika's comments on one night only (that sam lived in fenly's apartment before him and that selina made emmett a mixtape after he passed)





	tears of loves lost in the days gone by

**Author's Note:**

> do you ever binge all of sos in one night and NEED to write about it??
> 
> this is not long and not very much in the way i usually write (i'll probably write some more introspective stuff later) but its past midnight and i needed to get this out before i went to bed.
> 
> also, probably a fix-it fic is coming at some point. but who knows.
> 
> \--title from the led zeppelin song "thank you," which is also in selina's mix to emmett.

Sam had always been an artist, in some form or another. Acting, writing, painting, none of it paid the bills even remotely. When she moved out to L.A., she gave up on most of it-- not really worth putting the time in when she was exhausted from work. Or... other activities. It wasn't until she met Emmett that she even  _considered_ trying her art again-- finally, someone who gave a shit, someone who wanted to hear what she had to say. Someone who didn't eat the blueberries in his fruit bowl and who always shared them with her.

She digressed.

"I'm thinking," she said, reaching for the sugar packets on the edge of the table and beginning to sort them, "about getting back into music."

"You like it?" Though he didn't look up from his coffee, Emmett's words betrayed his interest. They usually did.

"Yeah, I... I dunno. I did it a lot when I was younger. Less fucked."

The corner of Emmett's lips quirked up, but his eyes stayed locked on his spoon, drifting in small circles in his mug. "I wouldn't say you're too fucked now." 

Sam chuckled. She was, more so than her regular diner-mate knew, but that wasn't really pancake talk. The crook of her elbow itched. It tended to when she left it covered and ignored this long. She paid it no mind. "Well," she started, shifting the Sweet 'N Lows above the Splendas, "I've been thinking about making cassettes. They won't make me much money, but one of my-- a guy, downtown, mentioned there's a coffee shop that's looking for new stuff."

Emmett's eyes met hers, cautiously. "Give it a shot, Sam."

"You think?"

"Yeah."

She didn't have nearly enough of the shit to do it, but when she got back to her apartment after breakfast, Sam cobbled together her first song of this artistic renaissance. A lot of clicking, tapping, and some attempts to add melodies later, she was-- well, not  _un_ happy with her result. It was, perhaps regrettably, inspired by Emmett. She knew she wasn't reinventing the goddamn wheel by writing music about the hot, emotionally distant guy with a cool jacket who she'd dreamed about fucking, but maybe there was something to writing about a friend. Music about lost loves wasn't lacking, but maybe there was some space in the industry for weird, instrumental remixes about the dork you go to diners with every other Monday. 

* * *

The cassette from the last tenant still sat in the player. It had been left by the girl before Fenly-- he hadn't brought too much with him in this move, so his cassette player had  _definitely not_ made it in his duffel, but he was glad to see he'd still get to listen to stuff every now and again. Music was good for inspiration. He'd tried the cassette a few times, and while not bad, it had definitely not been his style. A little forceful and stilted, emotional but strangely tuned, he could see it being homemade. And, he gathered, it was-- the label said 'E.M' in big, block letters. 

It was a shame the girl had left. Maybe he'd get along with another artistic soul.

* * *

 

The cassette in the room that used to be Fenly's hadn't been taken out of the player during his tenure. Now, alone in the stark quiet of the empty apartment building, Selina played it from time to time, clutching Fenly's blankets and closing her eyes, letting the rhythm of the song fill the corners of her mind. The other day she had looked up a list of previous tenants and pulled the name  _Samantha E._ from the list as pre-dating Fenly. She curled her fingers more tightly into Fenly's old bedspread and imagined the woman in her mind's eye. Who made cassettes and left them behind? In her mind, Samantha had been an artist, a sweet girl who might've gotten along with each of the most recent tenants in the way any well-meaning young person might have.

In the way Fenly had.

The song came to a halt as a tear caught in the corner of her eye.

* * *

 

 _Of_   _fucking course,_ Selina thought to herself.  _And so, the snake continues eating its own tail. Fuck._

Alone, in the room adjacent to what had been Emmett's bathroom, it was easy to let her mind wander. To play the events of her time with the others over and over, and pretend it was their voices in her ears still. It had taken her all of two days to remember Emmett had mentioned a girl, who had died of an overdose. A girl named Sam. It had taken her all of ten minutes to find the death record for  _Samantha Elliot, 33, overdose (D.O.A.)_ in the county coroner's office.

 _Samantha Elliot. Samantha E. Sam._ Fucking _hell._

There was, ultimately, something nice about the situation. Insofar as anything about any of the situation could be nice. Though he had never known, Emmett had been the kind of boy who drove multiple girls to make mixtapes in his honor. Selina flipped the two matching cassettes over in her hands.  _E.M,_ read the old one, in the quick handwriting of someone who had thought she would see him the next week.  _Emmett Markham,_ read the other, carefully lettered with the knowledge that this was part of the little Selina had left of him. She slipped her own carefully into the cassette player, still sitting on Fenly's old night table. Sam's old night table.  _A lot of people who weren't Selina_ 's old night table. 

" _Wise men say... only_ fools  _rush in. But I can't help falling in love with you._ "


End file.
